Scotch Song——

NOW spring has clad the grove in green,
And strewed the lea wi' flowers:
The furrow'd waving corn is seen
Rejoice in fostering showers.
While ilka thing in Nature join
Their sorrows to forego,
O why thus all alone are mine
The weary steps o' woe.------

The trout within yon wimpling burn
That glides, a silver dart,
And safe beneath the shady thorn,
Defies the angler's art:
My life was ance that careless stream,
That wanton trout was I;
But Love wi' unrelenting beam
Has scorch'd my fountains dry.------